Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Why do I weep? - to leave the vine
Last Line: Now the light gathers o'er youth and love!
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Brides; Farewell; Parting


WHY do I weep? To leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend;
The myrtle -- yet, oh, call it mine! --
The flowers I love to tend.
A thousand thoughts of all things dear
Like shadows o'er me sweep;
I leave my sunny childhood here,
Oh! therefore let me weep!

I leave thee, sister! we have played
Through many a joyous hour,
Where the silvery green of the olive shade
Hung dim o'er fount and bower.
Yes! thou and I, by stream, by shore,
In song, in prayer, in sleep,
Have been as we may be no more --
Kind sister, let me weep!

I leave thee, father! Eve's bright moon
Must now light other feet,
With the gathered grapes, and the lyre in tune,
Thy homeward step to greet.
Thou, in whose voice, to bless thy child,
Lay tones of love so deep,
Whose eye o'er all my youth had smiled --
I leave thee! let me weep!
Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast
Pouring out joy and woe,
I have found that holy place of rest
Still changeless -- yet I go!
Lips, that have lulled me with your strain!
Eyes, that have watched my sleep!
Will earth give love like yours again? --
Sweet mother! let me weep!

And like a slight young tree that throws
The weight of rain from its drooping boughs,
Once more she wept. But a changeful thing
Is the human heart -- as a mountain spring
That works its way, through the torrent's foam,
To the bright pool near it, the lily's home!
It is well! -- the cloud on her soul that lay,
Hath melted in glittering drops away.
Wake again, mingle, sweet flute and lyre!
She turns to her lover, she leaves her sire.
Mother! on earth it must still be so:
Thou rearest the lovely to see them go!

They are moving onward, the bridal throng,
Ye may track their way by the swells of song;
Ye may catch through the foliage their white robes' gleam,
Like a swan midst the reeds of a shadowy stream;
Their arms bear up garlands, their gliding tread
Is over the deep-veined violet's bed;
They have light leaves around them, blue skies above,
An arch for the triumph of youth and love!

II.

Still and sweet was the home that stood
In the flowering depths of a Grecian wood,
With the soft green light o'er its low roof spread,
As if from the glow of an emerald shed,
Pouring through lime-leaves that mingled on high,
Asleep in the silence of noon's clear sky.
Citrons amidst their dark foliage glowed,
Making a gleam round the lone abode;
Laurels o'erhung it, whose faintest shiver
Scattered out rays like a glancing river;
Stars of jasmine its pillars crowned,
Vine-stalks its lattice and the walls had bound;
And brightly before it a fountain's play
Flung showers through a thicket of glossy bay,
To a cypress which rose in that flashing rain,
Like one tall shaft of some fallen fane.

And thither Ianthis had brought his bride,
And the guests were met by that fountain side.
They lifted the veil from Eudora's face --
It smiled out softly in pensive grace,
With lips of love, and a brow serene,
Meet for the soul of the deep-wood scene.
Bring wine, bring odors! -- the board is spread;
Bring roses! a chaplet for every head!
The wine-cups foamed, and the rose was showered
On the young and fair from the world embowered;
The sun looked not on them in that sweet shade,
The winds amid scented boughs were laid;
And there came by fits, through some wavy tree,
A sound and a gleam of the moaning sea.

Hush! be still! Was that no more
Than the murmur from the shore?
Silence! -- did thick rain-drops beat
On the grass like trampling feet!
Fling down the goblet, and draw the sword!
The groves are filled with a pirate horde!
Through the dim olives their sabres shine!
Now must the red blood stream for wine!

The youths from the banquet to battle sprang,
The woods with the shrieks of the maidens rang;
Under the golden-fruited boughs
There were flashing poniards and darkening brows --
Footsteps, o'er garland and lyre that fled,
And the dying soon on a greensward bed.
-- Eudora, Eudora! thou dost not fly! --
She saw but Ianthis before her lie,
With the blood from his breast in a gushing flow,
Like a child's large tears in its hour of woe,
And a gathering film in his lifted eye,
That sought his young bride out mournfully.
She knelt down beside him -- her arms she wound
Like tendrils, his drooping neck around.

As if the passion of that fond grasp
Might chain in life with its ivy-clasp.
But they tore her thence in her wild despair,
The sea's fierce rovers -- they left him there:
They left to the fountain a dark-red vein,
And on the wet violets a pile of slain,
And a hush of fear through the summer grove. --
So closed the triumph of youth and love!

III.

Gloomy lay the shore that night,
When the moon, with sleeping light,
Bathed each purple Sciote hill --
Gloomy lay the shore, and still.
O'er the wave no gay guitar
Sent its floating music far;
No glad sound of dancing feet
Woke the starry hours to greet.
But a voice of mortal woe,
In its changes wild or low,
Through the midnight's blue repose,
From the sea-beat rocks arose,
As Eudora's mother stood
Gazing o'er the AEgean flood,
With a fixed and straining eye --
Oh! was the spoiler's vessel nigh?
Yes! there, becalmed in silent sleep,
Dark and alone on a breathless deep,
On a sea of molten silver, dark
Brooding it frowned, that evil bark!
There its broad pennon a shadow cast,
Moveless and black from the tall still mast;
And the heavy sound of its flapping sail
Idly and vainly wooed the gale.
Hushed was all else -- had ocean's breast
Rocked e'en Eudora that hour to rest?

To rest? the waves tremble! -- what piercing cry
Bursts from the heart of the ship on high!
What light through the heavens, in a sudden spire,
Shoots from the deck up? Fire! 'tis fire!
There are wild forms hurrying to and fro,
Seen darkly clear on that lurid glow;
There are shout, and signal-gun, and call,
And the dashing of water -- but fruitless all!
Man may not fetter, nor ocean tame
The might and wrath of the rushing flame!
It hath twined the mast like a glittering snake,
That coils up a tree from a dusky brake;
It hath touched the sails, and their canvas rolls
Away from its breath into shrivelled scrolls:
It hath taken the flag's high place in the air,
And reddened the stars with its wavy glare;
And sent out bright arrows, and soared in glee,
To a burning mount midst the moonlight sea.
The swimmers are plunging from stern and prow --
Eudora! Eudora! where, where art thou?
The slave and his master alike are gone --
Mother! who stands on the deck alone?
The child of thy bosom! -- and lo! a brand
Blazing up high in her lifted hand!
And her veil flung back, and her free dark hair
Swayed by the flames as they rock and flare;
And her fragile form to its loftiest height
Dilated, as if by the spirit's might;
And her eye with an eagle-gladness fraught --
Oh! could this work be of woman wrought?
Yes! 'twas her deed! -- by that haughty smile,
It was hers: she hath kindled her funeral pile!
Never might shame on that bright head be,
Her blood was the Greek's, and hath made her free!
Proudly she stands like an Indian bride,
On the pyre with the holy dead beside;
But a shriek from her mother hath caught her ear,
As the flames to her marriage robe draw near,
And starting, she spreads her pale arms in vain
To the form they must never infold again.
-- One moment more, and her hands are clasped --
Fallen is the torch they had wildly grasped --
Her sinking knee unto heaven is bowed,
And her last look raised through the smoke's dim shroud,
And her lips as in prayer for her pardon move; --
Now the light gathers o'er youth and love!





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